Another night of light freezing mist had me wondering if we might be missing church on Sunday. Forecast to begin on Saturday afternoon, there was a very thin film over the windshield by bed time. We woke to find only a light glaze on the stone steps and the vehicles. The streets and roads were maybe a bit patchy.

With that and the temperature in the very low twenties, I privately prophesied to Randa, “We may only have a few folks at church this morning.”

I find the inaccuracies of private prophesy to be less embarrassing than those publicly proclaimed. Besides, Randa’s used to me being wrong, so there would be no debilitating disillusionment if this one joined that long list of previous inaccuracies.

I went out and started the four-wheel-drive truck so it could be warming up and melt through that thin layer of frozen mist. It was only about a tenth of an inch thick so I figured a few minutes would take care of that. We came out about five minutes later to find that layer unrepentant. So, I took the plastic ice scraper out of the door storage compartment and set about persuasion by different means.

The futility of my first few strokes led me immediately to filling up a large pitcher with cold water. Slowly pouring that over the windshield provided sufficient persuasion to transition the ice into a more cooperative format. We were soon on our way, albeit not at as rapid a pace as usual.

Numerous sections of the Geuda Springs Road looked like they might be glazed with black ice. Not wanting to take time for deliberate experimentation on the point nor being interested in random selection for the privilege, I decided to drive those miles of backroad at a significantly reduced rate of speed.

In spite of the delayed start and slower pace, we made it to church only five minutes later than our usual time which put us there at ten minutes till designated starting time. Almost simultaneous with our arrival, a group of South Haven High School FFA members began filing in, wearing dark slacks and white shirts, ties and those marvelous blue jackets with gold embroidery. One of the future agriculturalists is a member of our congregation; all the others were visitors.

The Ag teacher and his family were with them. Other family members came in as well—parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, what-have-you. Maybe a few neighbors as well. We sang our opening song and spent a few minutes mingling about and greeting one another. By the time that was done, we had a full house. Biggest crowd we’ve had since last Easter, I’d say.

Don’t you love it when the day the Lord has made is better than the one you expected?

H. Arnett
2/18/19

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About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.